


Of Winds, and Alien Lands...

by pushkin666



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bilbo emoting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-12
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-22 12:38:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3729235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pushkin666/pseuds/pushkin666
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo returns home after the Battle of the Five Armies.  Having carried the acorn from Beorn's Garden to Erebor and to The Shire he finally plants it in his own garden, and then he waits until one day his waiting is rewarded, and Thorin comes knocking at his door.  Yeah, Thorin didn't die in this reality :)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Winds, and Alien Lands...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fictionwriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionwriter/gifts).



> So although I wasn't massively impressed by The Battle of the Five Armies, the moment where Thorin came upon Bilbo in the dark corridors of Erebor, the moment where Bilbo had the acorn in his hand and he almost reached Thorin stuck with me. A birthday fic for Fictionwriter. 
> 
> The title is taken from Vita Sackville West's The Land.

Bilbo's hands are trembling a little as he peels off the acorn's outer shell. He tries not to think about that conversation in the dark halls of Erebor, that moment when he almost reached Thorin. When he felt that he could put his hand out to touch and it would be the Thorin from Beorn's garden again. The Thorin that had touched his hair softly and murmured about how long and unkempt it was getting, how it would look good with gold beads plaited through it. That was a dream that had been lost as soon as Bilbo had taken the Arkenstone, as soon as he had 'betrayed' Thorin, or at least in Thorin's eyes. 

He closes his eyes for a moment, and breathes in the scent of the garden around him, grounding himself. It's pointless thinking about things like that. About what might have been. His fingers are careful as he removes the shell, making sure not to damage the kernel inside. The kernel is like the first line of a story, the premise to what happens as it moves along. The story set from those very first words. The seed that will grow into a tree. Or an epic. It's rare for hobbits to be part of an epic and there are times when Bilbo wishes that he'd never been part of the epic of the Lonely Mountain.

His hand clenches around the kernel and then he places it gently in the hole he'd dug in the ground. It's in a favourite part of his garden, somewhere where he likes to sit and read. He's carried the acorn hundreds of miles; from Beorn's garden to Erebor, and now back here to the Shire. 

So he spends the next few months carefully tending it, watering the ground and hoping that no damage has been done to the kernel. He's surprised and delighted when it starts to shoot up, when the sapling pushes its way through the ground, breaking the earth apart until it stands tall and firm. It's growing quicker than a normal oak tree would, its leaves dark green and shading him from the sun. Bilbo can only guess that it's because the acorn came from Beorn's garden that it's growing so quickly. 

Bilbo sits by the tree, and if over the months, his hand reaches out to touch it and stroke it there is nobody to see, and nobody to comment. He has reinitiated contact with those relatives that he likes and can bear to be around, speaks to his neighbours but mainly he keeps to himself, not caring about the rumours that circulate. The rumours that say he's become 'strange' and 'distant'. That this is why hobbits don't go outside of The Shire. Why they don't get involved in the problems of elves, and men and most definitely not dwarves.

Occasionally, over the next few years he receives visitors; Gandalf and on three special occasions visitors arriving from Erebor. Bombur, Gloin and Balin. Always a joy but a sorrow as well when their conversations inevitably turn quiet and there's a space with them, a space where once there was the laughter of dwarflings and a space that can only be filled by one dwarf. The first time they visited Bilbo had hoped that there would be word from him, that Thorin might have forgiven him but there was nothing. He knows he's being foolish expecting Thorin to forgive him, but he'd hoped that the King would send greetings if nothing else. Bilbo asks about him of course but there's little they can report other than that as King under the Mountain he governs well, if a little harshly. That he doesn't sing as often as he used to. 

And then in the fifth year after his return, the fifth since he planted the acorn that's become the oak tree that he's currently sitting under - the tree that has grown tall and proud like the Master of the Garden from which it's come he hears the sound of hooves come up the lane towards his burrow. Hears the sound of low singing, a song of a lonely mountain, and his heart misses a beat.

Bilbo puts down his book and pushing his hair back behind his ears he walks slowly and carefully back into his burrow, not wanting to be surprised in the garden. Not wanting others to see this meeting… this reunion? He wants nothing more than a moment before he has to open the door and see... see what he's been both dreading and wanting for such a very long time.

There's a deep knock on the front door and Bilbo rubs his hands against his trousers, wiping the nervous sweat from them. 

Taking a deep breath he steps forward and opens the door...


End file.
